Shattered Christmas Lights
by ally.enchantress
Summary: Get a look into Connie Rubirosa's past. She was eighteen and on her way to the perfect rest of her life, when one day with no word bad enough to describe it shattered her world like one would shatter Christmas lights.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Connie, or any of the familiar characters in this story. They belong to Dick Wolf and NBC, and I thank them profusely for coming up with the ideas and airing the shows respectively. I, however, own Michael Giovanni, Mr. Rubirosa, the unnamed waitress, and the other characters that aren't in Law and Order. FYI.**

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"Michael Giovanni, we are please to inform you that you have been accepted…"

He didn't get any further because I leapt from my chair and hugged him tightly. "Yes! Yes, Mike, yes!"

Michael stood up and hugged me back, his arms reaching under mine and slipping around my shoulder blades. "We're going to college, Connie. We're going to college."

I giggled.

He laughed. "And, maybe when we're all done with school, we'll be attorneys in the same office."

I released him, keeping only his big, warm hand firmly in mine. "Sure. I'll be the district attorney and you'll be my ADA. Okay?"

He scoffed. "Not likely, love. If anything, our places will be reversed."

I punched him playfully in the shoulder. "Ha. You kid yourself, my love. You know as well as I do that my grades are far superior to yours."

"I give up, Miss Rubirosa. Your case has been won."

"Thank you, counselor," I replied, and returned to the report I was writing.

"Connie, why are you doing homework? I have much better ideas. For instance, we could enjoy each other's company in the living room." And, without waiting for an answer, he pulled my hand, forcing me from my chair and onto the couch in the living room.

He put his arm around my shoulders and I sighed contentedly, leaning into his embrace. He pressed his face into my long hair. I exhaled and tried to sit up properly.

But apparently he was having none of that. He jumped me, knocking me into the other side of the sofa. His momentum landed him on top of me. Holding himself up so that he didn't crush me, he simply stared at me.

I laughed softly and turned my head to the side. He merely toppled onto the couch in front of me, his greater weight sending me across the tiny space and against his body. My forehead knocked into his, and my eyes were immersed in chocolate brown ones. Soft and tender, they held mine prisoner as they moved closer and closer.

I didn't even realize what he was doing until his lips met mine. He placed his hand on the back of my head and pulled me closer. It was only when we were both getting lightheaded that he straightened up and sat me on his lap.

"You know, Connie," he said as he cuddled me, "tomorrow is your birthday."

"And we're graduating high school at the end of the week," I reminded him.

"Then why do you have homework?"

"I don't. I'm practicing my essays."

"Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?" Ah, back to the birthday. He was not to be deterred.

"Nope," I said, resting my head against his chest. He placed his chin in my hair.

"Well," he whispered, "why don't you meet me at my house, and we'll think of something to do there? My parents have been begging me to bring you over. You know how much they like you."

They did like me. I rolled my eyes, though he couldn't see. "Okay, Mike, you win. What time?"

"Um…why don't you make it six?"

"Okay." His chocolate brown eyes were impossible to deny.

"So." He changed the subject, his voice teasing. "Where were we?" His dark, Italian hair tickled my face.

"Connie? Connie! You home?"

I sighed. "Yeah, Dad, in the living room."

He came in, took in my position in relation to Mike's, and snorted. "Hello, Michael. Am I interrupting something?"

I grinned. It was a good thing Dad liked Mike, because I was pretty sure he'd be dead otherwise. "You could leave, you know. Give us some privacy."

"Not likely, Connie. So how was your day?"

I sat up a little straighter. "Pretty good, nothing worth noting."

Dad raised his eyebrows. "Then why is there an envelope from Harvard Law on the dining room table?"

"That's mine, Mr. Rubirosa," Mike offered. "I got my acceptance letter today."

"Well, congratulations, Michael! That's wonderful. I suppose you and Connie are thrilled."

I beamed, and Mike squeezed me affectionately. "Well, after three years of caring what happens to him every day, yeah!" I laughed.

Mike pecked me on the cheek.

Dad shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Connie, I've, uh, got a business trip to go on tomorrow. Early. So, I guess I'm trying to say that I won't be here for your birthday. I'm so sorry, honey, but it's unavoidable."

I bit my lip and concentrated on his eyes, trying to see whether or not he was genuinely sorry. His eyes swam with love and guilt.

"Connie?"

Definitely sorry.

I smiled and got up from Mike's lap and kissed Dad on the cheek. "It's okay, Dad. I'll be fine. When are you coming back?"

"I'll be back, with pancakes, when you wake up on graduation day."

I hugged him. "Okay. So long as there's pancakes."

He laughed, relief clear. "Alright."

"Love you, Dad," I said, going back to sit on Mike's lap.

"Love you too, Connie. So…since I'm not going to be here for your birthday, why don't we celebrate tonight? Come on, guys, we're going out to eat."

My mouth dropped open. We were going to downtown New York? With Mike?

"Connie, you're face is going to crack in half. Come on." Mike took my hand and pulled me after him.

My foot caught on the couch and I tripped and fell against Mike's back. He was so freaking tall. He wasn't swayed at all, pulling me around to walk beside him.

"Sorry," he whispered.

I shrugged, and we ran to the car. I hopped into the front and Mike slid into the back. His hand tickled my hip and I grabbed it.

"Downtown, here we come!" Dad said.

Mike squeezed my hand.

*****Mike POV**

She ordered a whole steak.

I didn't think I'd ever understand how she could eat so much and not gain any weight. Her beautiful brown eyes looked at me questioningly.

"Mike?"

Her voice was like bells.

"Why are you staring at me?" She cocked her head. Her long, lovely hair spilled into her eyes. Her delicate hand brushed it away impatiently, and she waited for an answer.

I sighed in exasperation. "How can you eat so much? Any other girl would order a salad and complain about gaining weight!"

She smirked, shrugged, and teasingly batted her eyelashes. "I have a high metabolism," she replied, "and I am _not_ any other girl."

I touched her knee under the table and she gave me her hand. "I know you're not," I told her. She grinned.

Her slim fingers wove into mine, and my hand completely smothered her tiny one.

She was so beautiful. I loved her with all of my heart. That was why I hoped she wouldn't get mad at me for planning a surprise for her at her party tomorrow. Her mocha-colored irises twinkled and shone. Jolting out of my reverie, I examined her face and found it glowing with amusement.

"Michael?"

Why had she called me Michael? She was the only person I allowed to call me Mike, which made it sort of a special name, and she loved it. Why start calling me Michael? "What?" I asked curiously.

She smirked. "You're staring at me again."

The dinner passed quickly. Connie ended up cleaning her plate, which was more than I could say for myself. Almost half of my pasta was still on my plate. Her dad had at least a quarter of his shrimp and salmon uneaten.

The waitress came back then. She took one look at Connie's plate. "So, did you have help with that, darling?"

Her lips pursed to hide her smile, she looked at me expectantly. "Well, Mike? Tell her how much you ate."

I frowned at her. "I didn't eat anything. She cleaned her plate before I could."

My love smiled angelically.

*****Connie**

We left after that, and received a round of applause from the staff. Apparently I was the first girl to single-handedly finish an entire steak. How pathetic.

I sat in the back with Mike this time. He didn't say anything, but I knew his stomach hurt. "You okay?" My eyes dared him to argue.

He sighed. "The eyes of death, Con? Isn't that a little drastic?"

I raised my eyebrows. "no, because I already know that your stomach hurts, and I also know you'll deny it if I don't force you to tell me the truth. Hence, the eyes of death are necessary. Get it?"

"But the ADA Connie Rubirosa eyes of death?"

"Um, DA Connie Rubirosa, thank you very much," I said, playfully hitting his stomach.

He groaned. "Okay, okay! Yes, Connie, my stomach hurts!"

"Much better," I teased, kissing him softly.

"Now, now, children," Dad called from in the front. "Behave. I don't want this day to end badly."

"Okay, Mr. Rubirosa. We'll be good." Mike winked at me and my heart thudded. I pressed myself against him and closed my eyes. I was so happy. I had everything I wanted.

"Connie? Sweetheart, wake up."

I moaned and pressed myself closer.

"Connie, you can't stay here all night. Your bed is much more comfortable than my shoulder."

I buried my face in his chest. "How would you know?" I murmured.

He chuckled. "Come on, love. Do you want me to carry you?"

I didn't answer, so he sighed and pulled me into his arms. I cuddled into his body, snuggling deep into his arms and exhaling contentedly. A door creaked open, and I felt the change in atmosphere as we entered the house.

I heard Mike carry me up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom. His muscles strained around me as he pushed my door open. I tried to be self-conscious about my messy room with clothes strewn everywhere, but I was just too tired. I felt my bed squash beneath me, and Mike's arms slid out from around me. One hand trailed down my arm and grasped my fingers in a tender, possessive way. His lips touched mine and I breathed slowly, already halfway asleep.

"Goodnight, Connie," Mike whispered in my ear.

I turned my head towards his voice. "I love you," I muttered in reply, barely conscious.

I was so close to him that I heard his lips pull into a smile before saying, "I love you more."

He knew I would have made an angry retort, but it was at that moment that I fell asleep. The last thing I felt was his gentle fingers tracing my lips.

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**Author's note: Okay, so I hope to clear up any confusion one might have after reading this. Michael and Connie fell in love during their freshman year in highschool, and their relationship progressed ever since. If you've read _Twilight_, it's like that sort of relationship, except they're both human. They're seniors now, in case you didn't catch that, and I don't know when Connie's birthday is so I made it up. Don't hurt me. Yes, the reason for the tragedy part of the genre will appear soon enough. I don't exactly know how I'm going to do it yet, so I don't know how long it's going to take. Finally, they really do love each other. I didn't know quite how to express that level of affection and adoration, because it doesn't come out with 'I love you.' So, think 'If I died taking a bullet for you, I'd raise myself from the dead to do it again' and you'll come close. :)**

**Also, reviews are my friend! I didn't realize why people keep putting "please review" on their writing, but now I do! So please review! Any advice, suggestions, criticism, w/e, I can handle to a certain degree. I'm a firm believer in the Golden Rule, so please keep that in mind.**

**Hopefully I've sparked your interest! Stay tuned!**


	2. Author's NoteApology

**Okay, so I know some people (I don't know how many) have read the single chapter of "Shattered Christmas Lights". Well, let me tell you a story. I wrote TONS and TONS of chapters and pages down on paper for the story, so it would probably be halfway done by now, except for this slight problem. At the beginning of February, the night before one of my gymnastics meets, we had a fire in our home. Nobody was hurt and just the living room and the kitchen were harmed, but I kept all my chapters hanging on paperclips behind my door, and everything was either packed up in boxes or destroyed. So, my assumption is that I'm never going to see those papers again, and if you're still waiting impatiently for another chapter, I'm sorry but you might be waiting a while for me to gather my thoughts and actually write something else if I can remember what the heck I wrote in the first place. Needless to say, you're not the only one who's pissed.**


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